


The Tunnel to Nowhere II

by Wolfine



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 13:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12654216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfine/pseuds/Wolfine
Summary: The war is still on! Colonel Hogan investigates the tunnel he's heard about.





	The Tunnel to Nowhere II

His hands were shaking, and it had nothing to do with LeBeau's coffee. Giving in to this small defeat, he put down his pen and arched over his desk, fingers scrubbing into his hair, pulling the strands to the point of pain to both focus and punish himself. "Robert...what were you thinking?" It came as no surprise that he heard the admonition in his head in his father's voice. Goodness knows, he had heard it enough as he grew up. 

While not one of the oldest kids in his group of friends, they all seemed to go along with his ideas, and the night Skinny Timmy Thompson nearly lost his arm, his father had taken him outside with a stern look on his face. Hogan had bit his lips to keep them from quivering, knowing he deserved the flogging he was about to get, but determined to take his punishment like a man. Which was why he was floored when his father sat him down and began speaking. The old man was disappointed in him of course, but he also explained that the other boys looked up to him, and that made what he did all the more important. He told his young son that any man in charge could order his men to walk into hell, but a leader could get them to volunteer to do it again and again. 

He never got his beating that night, and he didn't completely understand everything his father had said until years later, but he started to take on the responsibility of keeping his friends out of trouble. Oh, they still did all sorts of things they shouldn't, but the name of the game was how to come out smelling like a rose. He still had great ideas, but he also took the extra minute to figure out if anyone was risking life, limb, or punishment. This lead to his love of planning. The other boys quickly learned that if they played their parts, they could get away with quite a lot of mischief. By the time the war caught up with them, Hogan wore the mantel of responsibility with natural ease. His superiors picked up on this and he found himself in charge of increasingly delicate and risky missions, culminating in his current post. When the idea of a unit operating from inside a POW camp was suggested, there really was only one man with a chance of getting away with it.

That wasn't all Hogan was getting away with. 

When his friends had suddenly became fascinated with pin-up girls and who in school had sprouted the biggest boobs, he had merely joined in. It wasn't hard to constantly agree with them, and their brains were so addled with thoughts of sex they barely noticed that his enthusiasm was a bit weak. Thankfully he took after his mother's side of the family when it came to looks. He was never without dance partners and had several girls all casting their nets to snag him as their steady, but he always seemed to slip through their fingers. One especially persistent blonde had come dangerously close, and it was this, as much as his patriotic sense of duty, which drove him into the service. In fact, hiding his increasing attraction to men wasn't so unlike what he was doing at Stalag 13. It helped that people always made assumptions about him; he was good looking, ergo he was a ladies man. He was a prisoner, ergo he was helpless to the whims of his captors. But while he played the game of dashing spy and used those looks to sway women to do what he wanted, his true nature longed for something else. More than a few men had spent several moments of pleasure with him, but they were always fleeting, faceless encounters stolen at great risk and over before you knew it. The service was anything but permanent or settled, and men came and went too fast to even establish any sort relationship. Hogan found himself growing both lonely and frustrated.

In a perverse way, the post at Stalag 13 was more to his liking. As insane and chaotic as it could be, it had routines that he could count on. It also happened to have a group of men who were as clever as they were loyal. Being a fellow American, Kinch had naturally become his friend very quickly, and Hogan relied on the man from the very start. One bite of LeBeau's cooking had endeared the little Frenchman to him for life, and while Carter's obliviousness could sometimes be worrisome, his heart was always in the right place. Newkirk however, had fascinated Hogan. Quick-witted and sly as a fox, Hogan often sat back and watched his thief run rings around some of the other men, and it swiftly became his favorite past time. Newkirk had those sparkling eyes that always seemed to hint he was thinking something naughty, and Hogan began to drift to sleep at night wondering what the wiry man would feel like under his hands. He knew Newkirk's reputation as a Romeo when it came to women, but there were times when he would catch Newkirk looking at him with a soft look on his face. It would be gone in a heartbeat, but it was enough to fuel several of Hogan's fantasies as he pleasured himself at night. 

He first heard about the Tunnel to Nowhere being whispered between two young soldiers as they stood a little too close to his window. The barracks were nothing if not poorly built, and the wood had enough gaps around the edge that freezing air was always finding it's way in. So too did sounds from outside, and Hogan managed to hear quite a lot of gossip even though the window was closed. He wasn't sure how he felt about this going on under his feet, but realized this sort of thing was bound to happen one way or another. While he and his men had the chance of leaving camp now and again and finding sex where they could, most of the other prisoners were trapped in a camp full of men with no other outlet. Better they do this out of sight than risk getting caught. They would be shot or hung, and then only after the guards had taken out their own frustrations on them. 

However, once he knew about the short tunnel, Hogan found it difficult to stop wondering about it.  How many guys knew about it? Did you just go down and hope someone was there, or did you decide beforehand? Weeks went by with nagging questions occupying the back of his mind. Nights were the worst, when he lay staring into the dark with a damp hand around his cock, suddenly wanting to just feel the touch of another person, feel warm wetness around his prick. As the ranking officer among them, he risked much if he went below. Someone might identify him, and they could blackmail him. He trusted his own team with his life and more, but he had no idea who he would find in the darkness. He wasn't sure he would want to know.

He finally made up his mind the night he and Newkirk broke into Klink's guest quarters to steal some important intel from a German officer. There was a window on the side of the building that wasn't routinely guarded very well, and no lock was safe from his thief. Newkirk had it open before Hogan had silently counted to ten, but the window was a bit high off the ground and Newkirk needed a boost. Hogan stood behind him, close enough to smell the faint aftershave on Newkirk's collar, and placing his hands on the other man's waist, he hoisted Newkirk towards the sill. Unfortunately, this had the effect of sliding Newkirk's entire backside against his dick, and Hogan nearly gasped as hot need ran swiftly through him. For a second, he would have given much to drop his hands lower and squeeze the firm little globes of Newkirk's ass before grinding himself against them. Gritting his teeth, his cock began to fill as Newkirk wiggled, and damn the man, he was still not through the window! Terrified that any moment Newkirk would feel a rigid dick drilling into his back, Hogan all but threw the Brit through the opening. Newkirk landed with a soft thud and a curse, while Hogan checked their surroundings and took a deep breath of the frigid air, desperately willing his cock to go down. He regained control enough to join the other man, but he obviously needed relief if an ass brushing against him generated this kind of response. It didn't help that Newkirk complained for the rest of the night that not only did he get a rip in his uniform, but he kept rubbing what he referred to as his "sore bum."  Hogan was either going down into that tunnel, or he was going to have to strangle his favorite Brit.

His opportunity came late one afternoon when most of the guys were outside on a rare, sunny day, playing baseball. He had finished his third cup of coffee and caught himself pacing his office. Opening his door, he peeked out to find himself alone in the barracks, the voices of the others faint as they played their game. Donning his jacket against the chill underground, he triggered the bunk mechanism and stepped onto the ladder to climb below, ready to feel like a fool if he went through with this and found no one in the tunnel. There was only a small, dim light at the far end, and it took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Blinking, he saw the opening of the short, abandoned section of tunnel, and gathering his courage, he stepped in. He heard the deliberate scrape of a shoe a few paces ahead of him, and knew he was most definitely not alone. He carefully navigated around some crates until he hit the wall, then turned around. He felt more than saw something move towards him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when hands suddenly began working at his belt buckle. Breathing deeply through his nose, he commanded his nerves to be still. This was, after all, why he had come down here. 

Whomever was on their knees in front of him certainly had no confusion as to what they were down there for! They had his trousers undone and were licking his cock all over, making his legs tremble and his mouth drop open in a small gasp. It had been so long, and this man knew how to suck cock. It was all Hogan could do not to whimper as he felt his dick brush against the slick sides of the man's mouth as he hollowed his cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the control he had to assert when the other opened his throat and let nearly Hogan's full length push down. Full lips dragged over his tight skin as he pulled off of Hogan, his talented tongue poking into the slit before letting Hogan feed his cock back down that luscious throat again. The man bobbed his head a few times, but something spooked him and his head suddenly jerked upwards, causing teeth to dig into Hogan's sensitive cock. Hogan hissed involuntarily, and placed a steadying hand on the man's head. Half to distract himself with another sensation, Hogan began to run his fingers through the short strands, and the image of Newkirk suddenly came to mind. The Brit featured regularly in his fantasies, so Hogan was not surprised.

Strong hands were roaming over his thighs while that clever tongue was dancing over him. The man had just taken Hogan deep when he hummed, and Hogan lost control, his hips lurching forward, nearly choking the poor bastard. Hogan pulled back and ran his hands through that soft hair again, hoping the man would continue. To his delight, the man grabbed him by the ass and swallowed him even deeper. Hogan couldn't stifle his groan, his body shivering in pleasure and the need to come. Hogan fought it off with all he had, not wanting this to end so soon. His legs began to shake and his hand dropped to the other man's shoulder, sliding down until his fingers brushed the stripes, followed by the feeling of loose threads. Almost as if the sleeve had been torn recently...

Adolf's balls!....it was Newkirk! 

He gasped in shock, but the other man merely increased his efforts, mistaking it for Hogan's reaction to the feeling of having his cock serviced. And that mental image, of Newkirk on his knees with his lips around a cock stretching his mouth, made it impossible for Hogan to hang on. He pushed at the head under his hand in warning, but Newkirk palmed his left ass cheek and pulled him closer. With his last coherent thought, Hogan realized he could only feel one hand because Newkirk was busily working himself over with the other. Hogan's world dissolved into sweet release as he pulsed into Newkirk's mouth, making the warm tunnel of his throat slick with come. Panting heavily, body twitching, he rode the aftershocks until Newkirk let him slip out. The air hitting his cock felt like getting hit with ice water, and he quickly tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up as he leaned back against the wall, not sure his legs would support him enough to leave just yet.

Actually, he didn't want to leave. If war had taught him anything, it was that nothing was forever, and suddenly he couldn't bear the thought of never kissing Newkirk. Grasping the other man's face in his hands, he aimed his lips where he figured Newkirk's to be, causing the Brit to squeak in surprise. Newkirk grabbed at his shoulder and Hogan leaned in, eager to feel the other man's stubble against his skin. Hogan pushed his tongue through his own lips and slid them along Newkirk's, which opened obediently. Hogan was delighted, and began to French his thief deeply, loving the feel of the other man as he relaxed in his arms. Newkirk's tongue began to twine with his own until Hogan pulled away to catch his breath. Unable to stray far from those soft lips, he nibbled them softly, then dove back in for more, noting the slight tang of cigarette. He had no idea how long he had been kissing Newkirk, but he decided he would be happy to spend the remainder of the war doing just that.

Newkirk whimpered then, and suddenly Hogan was flooded with guilt. Maybe Newkirk wasn't enjoying himself as Hogan was? Was the man kissing him back, or trying to push Hogan out of his mouth? He pulled back, unsure of himself as he had never been before, and could only think to escape the situation. He couldn't face Newkirk, not after what they had just done! He stepped to the side, and walked swiftly out of the short tunnel and was above ground and shutting the door to his office before he really was aware of it. 

What had he done? What had he DONE?

He was in charge of this base, he was Newkirk's superior, he was not supposed to engage in this sort of thing! He paced his office for an hour, only calming down when he began to think about the whole scenario logically. As much as he had been able to identify the other man from his uniform, there was no way Newkirk could have known it was him. It was far too dark to be able to see anyone, and save for the grip on his cock, the other man hadn't touched him very much. The tunnel served as the place to have sex for a reason, it protected your identity. Hogan spent the rest of the evening in his office, running through how he was going to act the next time he saw Newkirk. Like the planner he was, if he played it out in his mind, it would be easier to manage in real life. 

Hogan made a point to not stand too close to Newkirk the next morning, but they soon fell back into routine as if nothing had happened. Newkirk made no sign that he knew it had been Hogan, so Hogan could relax. He alone would carry the knowledge of what had happened, and as much as it was one of his most treasured memories, it also made his heart hurt. His arms ached to scoop Newkirk into them and he very much wanted to kiss the man until they were both breathless. He stole looks at Newkirk as he always did, but now he watched the man with new understanding. How was it Newkirk was closer to what Hogan needed, yet was still so far out of reach?

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to do a sequel. Thank you to all the lovely people who commented that they wanted it too, your encouragement has made this story possible! I also apologize that it has taken this long.


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